


Unravel

by Crowlex



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: A bit of blindfolded Jim as well, Bottom!Jim, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tied-up Jim, Top!Oswald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowlex/pseuds/Crowlex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is always in control… except when it comes to the one man in Gotham that challenges everything he is. It’s the reason why Theo Galavan died at his hands… no, their hands. Oswald has taught him an important lesson, one that will shape every decision he makes in the future to come. Sometimes, letting go of that control helps you keep it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravel

Being the King of Gotham was everything Oswald had ever wanted. An infamous title. A notorious reputation. A vast criminal empire at his disposal. Most importantly, people  _ feared _ him and with that fear came the respect that he rightfully deserved. No more humiliations or taunts. No more disrespect. What he had lacked in physical strength, his mind made up for in a way that couldn’t compare. He finally had the power to put everyone in their place.

But if he had to, he was willing to give it all up for this moment to last indefinitely; his kingdom, power, title – everything.

The wooden headboard of the bed shakes as Jim squirms beneath him. The detective is a spectacle to behold, wrists bound above his head with Oswald’s tie to the headboard. Oswald straddles the detective’s waist, a position that he doesn’t find himself in quite as often as he would like. He savors this moment, watching in fascination as he teasingly runs his fingers lightly across the detective’s heaving stomach. Jim’s head twists to the side, biting his lip as he does in that stubborn way of his, refusing to give in. 

Oswald is patient though. It’s only a matter of time and patience is definitely not one of Jim’s virtues.

Jim’s shirt and belt is undone while Oswald himself is still fully clothed. The tortuous buildup will always be his favorite part, especially when he took the lead.

Jim is usually the one that manhandles Oswald all the time, blue eyes and tense body pinning him against a wall but he had always recognized that hungry glint that flashed in those eyes every time Jim did. Jim is the type that gets off on the primal physicality of it all and how Oswald challenges those icy glares with a mischievous glare of his own. No matter how intimidating Jim wanted to be, they both knew the detective’s anger stemmed from his refusal to accept the truth that they shared a bond, forged in trust, betrayal, and blood that made their friendship a special one. It only took the death of Theo Galavan for Jim to finally accept it. The fact that they had shared a kill made it final, the last hammer strike that melded their relationship together. Jim finally trusted him as much as he trusted the detective.

The detective’s dress shirt is draped open, revealing carved muscle that clench as Oswald plants a light kiss on his chest. Oswald lingers there, the strong pulse of Jim’s beating heart a steady but rapid drum beat against his lips.

A gasp escapes from the detective, betraying his want.

Oswald giggles fondly, peeking into glaring blue eyes as he lifts the black material of the blindfold over Jim’s eyes. “You’re making this much harder than this has to be.”

“Just  _ get _ on with it,” Jim grits out, lifting his head off the pillows aggressively.

Oswald leans over so that their foreheads touch, letting himself drown into the sea of blue that swallows his entire vision.

“I’m just asking you to say one word, Jim.” Blue eyes flash in irritation. “Just one.” Oswald can feel the heated breaths coming out of Jim’s mouth that’s tantalizingly close to his. Jim tries to kiss him but Oswald pulls his head away with a dark grin. “Ah ah ah,” he tuts. “What’s the magic word?”

Jim’s lip twitches in a halfway snarl of frustration that sends an unwanted jolt of desire coursing through his veins that almost tempts Oswald to relinquish all his self-control.  _ Almost _ .

“Over my dead body,” Jim growls lowly.

It reminds Oswald that all his patience will be worth it in the end. He places the blindfold back over Jim’s eyes again. He plants a quick kiss beside Jim’s lips, already out of reach by the time Jim tries to turn to meet his mouth.

“Oswald,” Jim rumbles, a feral demand that yanks at Oswald’s desire but one that he refuses to give into, no matter how much he wants to.

Oswald brushes his thumb over Jim’s lips. “Just say it.” Jim’s neck muscles are tight and visible, head still hovering off the pillow.

Jim frowns as if this was the hardest decision he’s had to make. “You’re going to regret this.” The detective lets out an exasperated sigh as his head plops onto the pillow.

Jim always likes to be in control but giving it up to someone else was unthinkable. It was new and at first, he had been hesitant and wary. Giving control to someone like Oswald was like handing the man a gun. Then again, they’d already done that, holding each other at gunpoint and threatening to kill the other but never actually going through with it. They’d earned each other’s trust in a strange, twisted way that somehow made sense. Finally, he had relented, given up both his control and trust to Oswald and instead of feeling anxious, it felt freeing, a weight off his shoulders that he couldn’t quite describe.

Jim’s jaw tightens when Oswald’s only reply is an insistent nip at his neck. He obliges, desperate for any kind of touch and grants Oswald access, tilting his head up. Even if he can’t see past the blindfold, he has his eyes closed, wanting to experience every unexpected touch that burns like fire and ice all at once, painfully delicious. Light kisses travel across his throat like a graceful dancer, precise and accurately placed. They glide from throat to collarbone before traveling back to his throat. He grunts when a spark of pain radiates across his neck with the next bite. Oswald has a possessive side to him that emerges at times like these, marking Jim as his own and oddly enough, it rouses Jim in a way that only triggers his impatience even more. He fights it and the laugh that vibrates against his skin tells him that Oswald knows as the other man devours his neck. It takes everything he has to stop himself from saying the word that Oswald wants to hear from him.

“So pig-headed,” Oswald notes smugly, pulling away to survey how utterly wrecked Jim looks. Blonde hair is in disarray, a glorious mop-headed mess from all the head twists and turns from the detective’s pent up aggravation.

“Shut up,” Jim snaps, the head board shaking slightly as he tugs his hands, wanting nothing more than to use them, to pull Oswald to him, to feel the leaner man’s body against his.

But he can’t. Just his luck that he fell for a depraved sociopath.

Oswald chuckles. “No need to be so hostile. It’s not my fault that you’re so stubborn.” The playful glee in his voice is so contagious that Jim can picture the other man’s carefree grin in his mind.

Before Jim can throw back a curt reply of his own, fingers take hold of his chin and lips possessively claim his. His surprised groan is muffled, swallowed by the other’s fervent mouth. The kiss is slow as another hand buries itself into the back of his head, fingers bunching to grab a fistful of hair. A tongue gently caresses his and he still can’t believe how quick of a learner Oswald is. The man’s kissing him with an artistic finesse that could surpass his own. He feels a pang of guilt. After all he’s done to Oswald – all the hurtful words and demeaning rejections – the criminal still kisses him as if this is the last time they’ll see each other. The guilt is chased away when Oswald deepens the kiss.

Oswald tastes the lingering sweet and deep flavor of the wine they had earlier. Jim’s mouth is hungry for his but he knows that he has to keep this brief. He uses just enough teeth to nibble at the detective’s lips as he pulls away. The area between Jim’s eyebrows wrinkles into mountains of disapproval as Oswald breaks the kiss and he can’t help crack a smile at it. There’s this incredibly childish pout that molds the detective’s lips, swollen and full from the kiss. Their erratic breaths are the only sound that fills the room of Jim’s apartment and Oswald decides that it’s about time that he breaks the detective’s stubborn will.

Oswald sits up, his full weight pressing down on Jim’s sharply angled waist. He’s very pleased to feel the press of interest against his own. Being the masochist that he is, he rolls his hips forward, eliciting a sound in between a gasp and a moan from Jim. The friction is more torturous for the detective whose sense of touch is hyper sensitized without his sight and Oswald watches the detective’s mouth part, the first sign of weakness. It’s amusing to watch Jim’s contorted face, knowing full well that pride will keep the detective from asking what he wants so badly.

“You’re impossible,” Oswald gloats as he scoots himself back so that he’s on top of Jim’s thighs now. “Except for me, of course.” One of his hands settle on the detective’s waist, thumb sneaking underneath the pants teasingly. The other swiftly unbuttons it, slowly pulling down the zipper. Jim’s breath stutters and his hip twitches much to his dismay. Oswald stifles a laugh, knowing that it would only set back all the work he’s put into this.

“I’m going to kill you.” Jim growls in that animalistic way of his that always sends a shiver of yearning down Oswald’s spine like the touch of a blade, dangerous but enticing all the same.

Oswald smiles silently, letting Jim’s erection breathe, now only restrained by his thin, black boxers. “And that’s why I’m still alive, old friend.” He can’t hide the delight that taints his voice as Jim’s biceps flex as he clenches his hands together.

“I’m not your friend,” Jim manages to say, voice strained.

“You’re right,” Oswald agrees, placing a gentle kiss on the bulge that causes the detective to curse. “You’re more than that.”

Jim says nothing and his silence tells Oswald everything he needs to know. He decides to reward the detective’s silent admittance. He drags both boxers and pants down, just enough so that Jim’s cock springs free, flushed and hardened, tip glistening with precum.

He takes a moment to look up at Jim.

The detective’s every muscle is tense in anticipation, a barely visible sheen of sweat borders Jim’s hairline. Oswald commits the moment to memory. He lowers his head, using his tongue to swirl around the tip of Jim’s cock. The detective’s hips buck but Oswald holds them back down firmly with both of his hands.

“Os–”

His name cuts off in a choked gasp as he swallows Jim’s cock into his mouth, tongue dragging underneath the length, following the swollen vein as a guide. At the same time, his hands are rolling Jim’s balls around, thick and heavy in his palm.

Jim actually shivers under him. It’s a reassuring sign that the detective’s donned armor is falling apart at his hands and it fills him with a sense pride. There’s no one else that has this ability except for him, to have Jim vulnerable and exposed with nothing to hide. After everything they’ve done together, they still accepted each other for what they were. That was all that mattered.

The tie is so infuriating that Jim wants nothing more than to break out of it and use his hands to dig into that fluffy hair that’s deceivingly soft like downy feathers. The warmth of Oswald’s mouth on him is a sensation that threatens his every being, digging into the very core of his soul and refusing to let go. It’s painful and intoxicating, a conflicted mess of feelings but it’s this exact rush that makes him feel alive. This criminal, this man who he should put behind bars makes him feel alive. His body’s screaming impatiently for more as the warmth around his cock disappears, the cold air of the room hitting him uncomfortably.

Oswald cradles Jim’s cock in his hand, thumb running over the head. “When have I ever denied you anything, Jim?” Jim’s balls tighten underneath his fingers; the detective’s breaths are irregular pants now. “I can never refuse you,” he utters lowly and Jim’s hips jerk up. He brushes his nose down the trail of hair that starts from Jim’s navel, down to his crotch, before a soft kiss right above Jim’s cock. “Just say the word.” He drags just enough thumb nail down Jim’s length that elicits a beautiful groan from the detective.

Jim thought he could outlast Oswald in this battle of passion. He had far more experience than Oswald who had admitted that he’s never had a romantic relationship of any kind with anyone. How hard could it be? He was supposed to be the more experienced out of the two of them and this was beyond undignifying. Thankfully, his pride had helped keep his self-control at bay but he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Please,” Jim finally mutters grudgingly. He can literally feel the smugness radiating from the other man and he’s thankful that the blindfold prevents him from having to see the smug look on Oswald’s face too.

Oswald can see the color of Jim’s already flushed face deepen but he can’t find it in him to toy around with the detective any longer. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” His only answer is a disapproving grunt as he releases Jim’s cock and drags himself backwards to pull both of the detective’s pants and boxers off. Jim raises his hips to help, cocking bobbing at the movement and somehow, with brilliant coordination from the both of them, they manage to undress Jim.

Its Oswald’s own turn to undress and for a moment, he considers taking off Jim’s blindfolds but he’s already tortured the detective for long enough. He crawls backward until he reaches the end of the bed, feet finding the floor. He surveys Jim as he undresses, knowing that Jim’s analyzing every sound as the detective tilts his head, straining to hear where Oswald was in the undressing process.

Jim could now hear the unzipping of pants over the background thundering of his own pulse in his ears.  _ Damn son of a bitch was strip teasing _ . He counts every time the soft material slide against every button on Oswald’s dress shirt in a poor attempt to distract himself. The light drop of that stupid fur coat on the floor that Oswald just had to wear that suited him so well was a fashionable addition that had been a pleasant surprise for Jim. Not that he was ever going to admit that to Oswald. 

Finally – after what seemed to be agonizing hours – the sounds stopped and Jim shuddered in suspense. The bed dipped as Oswald clambered back over to him, the comfortable warmth of the other man’s body against his grounds him into the moment.

There’s a snap of a bottle, reminding him that Oswald was the one leading and Jim takes a heavy swallow. It had been unthinkable at a certain point. Now, it felt right.

Oswald settles himself in between Jim’s legs, parting open powerful thighs that clench at the touch of his fingers that are slick and oiled. He spares one last glance to take in the view. Jim is doing everything to keep himself from begging, teeth chewing into his full and colored lips. As if the detective could sense the torturous intent, Jim spreads his legs apart and lifts one leg only to insistently drop it on Oswald’s shoulder, blindfolded and all.

Oswald eyes the black material suspiciously. “How did you –”

“Shut the hell up and  _ fuck _ me, Oswald!” Jim snapped, his voice a gravelly snarl.

At any other time, Oswald would have taken the time to squeeze out everything from the detective, pride and all until he was a begging mess but the open invitation was too good to resist.

“Your wish is granted,” Oswald chuckles out. “You didn’t need to suffer so much if you had simply said what I wanted you to in the first place.” 

Jim was about to Oswald a piece of his mind but it’s wiped clean of everything in an instant when a slick, cold finger teases around the tight ring of muscle before it slowly pushes inside. He gasps embarrassingly loud.

It’s... different. 

In all their time together, it was always Jim taking Oswald. It was always Jim pinning the smaller man against a wall, biting into Oswald’s neck as hip slammed against skin. It was always Jim on top of Oswald who swam in wrinkled sheets, both of them moaning, gasping, and panting against each other’s lips. There were times where Oswald had suggested switching it up jokingly but his eyes flashed with desire every time he did. Jim had refused every time until now. He realized that after Theo’s death, it was time that he gave Oswald a bit of the trust that the mobster has rightfully earned.

Whatever Oswald’s doing, Jim finds himself wanting more. He arches his back insistently trying to push himself onto the fingers at a pace he wants, silently demanding more. He hears Oswald snicker as another finger joins the first. Jim let’s Oswald get away with it because there’s nothing else he cares about in this moment except for Oswald’s fingers that are eliciting a remarkably new but brilliant sensation as they twist and scissor inside of him.

Jim strangles out an indiscernible sound  when wet lips swallow him down completely again but this time, the sensation slams into him, ten times more concentrated as another finger joins the other two. An excruciating rhythm is set, fingers working together in tandem with the mouth that envelops his cock with wet heat. Jim’s toes curl in his attempt to keep himself together but he finds the control slipping away from him.

“ _ Oswald _ ,” he utters lowly in warning. As much as he wants to lose himself to this feeling, the fingers aren’t enough. He needs something else. He  _ needs  _ Oswald. Jim’s cock vibrates when the other man laughs at his keening plea but relents. The fingers pull out and the mouth leaves him as hands tilt him upward into the perfect position and he can’t help the sharp inhale of anticipation. A slick cock slides between his ass cheeks, encouraging him to spread himself wider. He can hear Oswald’s breaths coming out as unsteady pants above him.

A thrust fills him immediately, deep and full. Jim tips his head back, gasping for air. It’s not as painful as he imagined it to be and instead, it feels right; perfect.

“J - Jim?” Oswald’s voice is lined with worry. “Are you alright?”

“Alright” was an understatement to what Jim was feeling right now.

“Yes,” Jim hisses out as he quickly wraps his legs around Oswald’s waist, pulling the other man impossibly closer, wanting anything. Everything. “Don’t you dare hold back,” Jim snarls out as he pushes his hips upward insistently.

Jim’s voice comes out steadier than he feels inside. He was dying to use his hands. He was dying to see Oswald’s face. The yearning is more overwhelming than the lust he feels right now. It’s almost as if Oswald reads his mind. A hand pulls the blindfold off his eyes, jade green eyes coming into view that lock intimately with his.

Their mouths part silently in unison as Oswald drives into Jim again, deep but gentle, still giving him time to adjust. A groan slips from Jim’s mouth and Oswald laughs as one hand tightly grips Jim’s shoulder. Oswald’s free hand slips in between their bodies, winding around the base of Jim’s cock and gives it a quick stroke upward.

“Fuck,” Jim grits out.

Oswald grins. The detective’s honorable vocabulary is completely nullified in situations like these. No one really knows that Jim has a really filthy mouth underneath the good impression of a law enforcer of the city.

Jim’s lips are claimed once again. Oswald’s tongue explores every crevice of his mouth. At the same time, Oswald’s hand squeezes Jim’s cock, thumb stroking over the crown, circling it, dipping it into the slit.

Then, Oswald fucks Jim. The pace increases and intensifies with every thrust as he works Jim’s cock with uncanny expertise. Oswald pushes them higher, angles himself deeper as Jim’s body arches against his.

Oswald's mouth pulls away from Jim again and he almost lets out a strangled whine. Almost. He’s relieved when Oswald buries his face against Jim’s neck: biting, marking, panting. Jim shudders, the exhilarating thrill of being owned shooting through his body. The multiple sensations are overpowering and there’s only one mantra that in his mind:  _ Oswald, Oswald, Oswald _ and why the hell does this criminal tempt him this way?

Jim’s moaning is now completely unrestrained and his entire body shakes with every thrust that takes him closer to the edge. Oswald takes him in every way possible, breaking him. Bruises on his neck, marking him. Hand stroking him, fisting him.

Jim shatters underneath Oswald, body going tight as he spills messily between their bodies. Oswald sheathes deep, groaning out his own release. Jim feels warmth fill him, accompanied by a satisfied twitch of hips but other than that, Oswald doesn’t move, tucked against his neck.

Seconds, minutes pass by as they lie there, absolutely sweaty and sticky but reveling in the post orgasmic haze. Jim finally turns his head, bumping a soft kiss onto Oswald’s damp temple. Oswald lazily lifts his head, pulling himself onto unsteady arms to hover over Jim’s face, the tips of their noses almost touching.

“I think you enjoyed that more than you’d like to admit,” Oswald finally says, his eyes shining with affection.

Jim scoffs but he can’t find himself to deny it, not when Oswald’s giving him  _ that _ look.

“Get me out of this,” Jim says, exhaustion thickly coating each word as he weakly pulls on the tie that binds his hands. Oswald does as he asks.

As soon as Jim’s hands are free, they wrap around Oswald. One hand lands on the small of Oswald’s back, the other cradles the back of the other man’s head, pulling him to Jim in a steel like grip. Oswald yelps in surprise at the unexpected eagerness but it quickly morphs into a chuckle as he nestles his face into Jim’s neck, eyes closed.

“I have something to say to you,” Jim blurts out before he has a chance to think twice.

“Mmmm. You never take the time to enjoy the small things in life, do you, Jim?” Oswald murmurs against his skin.

When Jim doesn’t answer, Oswald’s eyes snap open and he tries to pull away to look at the detective but Jim’s grip is vice like. The hand that holds the back of his head only drawing him in closer and tighter.

“Jim?” Oswald can’t keep his voice from quivering. Something’s bothering the detective and he’s afraid of what Jim might say, that what they have is wrong, that what they’re doing is wrong, that they should stop this relationship between them.

“I’m sorry,” Jim finally says after a pregnant pause.

The fear that his suspicions of what Jim is about to say is already tearing him apart inside but Oswald manages to keep himself together.

“For what?” Oswald asks softly, preparing himself for the worst.

“For everything,” Jim replies, his fingers stroking Oswald’s scalp almost reassuringly. “For the way I’ve been treating you up to this point.”

Oswald finds himself speechless. He never would have imagined that Jim would ever apologize to him like this. He didn’t expect it and never let himself even consider it. It was too great of an expectation.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Oswald stutters out, not sure of what to say. 

“No,” Jim says, fingers gripping the downy black hair. There was a pause. “I want to.”

The guilt had been nagging away inside him, getting worse every time he met with Oswald especially after Jim had handcuffed the mobster to the railing with no regard for his life, prioritizing Carmine Falcone’s life over Oswald’s. Oswald literally had to shout in his face for him to even consider taking Oswald along instead of leaving him for dead. Although this occurrence had fractured their friendship, Jim had become self aware only recently of what a complete douche bag he’d been to Oswald even before that.

Jim had always stepped all over Oswald because he thought he was entitled to. Because he was righteous and good, everything Oswald wasn’t but it was for this reason he lashed out to Oswald worse than anyone else. Even if they were involved in two opposite worlds, they were similar in lots of ways and it had only made Jim angrier that it was inevitable that they always somehow ended up intertwined in each other’s business. He’d always denied it, denied Oswald, denied  _ this _ .

“You were already forgiven,” Oswald lies. “What are friends -”

"We’re not friends,” Jim cuts in, hand fisting in hair to pull Oswald away to look up at him.

Oswald’s lip quivers. “What are we then?”

Oswald’s eyes seem to search his for a hint, desperate for an answer. Jim plants a light kiss on Oswald’s lips instead.

“Does that answer your question?” Jim asks, brow raised questioningly. Oswald looks down at him a moment with a distant look before both his hands burrow into Jim’s hair, their foreheads now touching. The words don’t have to be said out loud. It’s more powerful, left unsaid.

“I’m  _ am _ sorry,” Jim adds genuinely.

“I am too,” Oswald replies. They don't need to say anything else to understand.

They both smile, lying there tangled in each other. They were friends. They were enemies. They were family. It wasn’t a crime to be all three at once. It just made their relationship that much more twisted and complex, powerful and strong.

That was all that mattered to the both of them. That was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that it’s a popular idea for Jim to top and I’m on that bandwagon too, for sure. But Oswald being a wicked top was too tempting to pass up. Merry Christmas ya’ll! (-‿‿-)


End file.
